Archive for Citizen Kane

Listing (badly)

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 2, 2022 by dcairns

To be clear — the following is not my list of screenings for the coming semester. It’s my submission for the Sight & Sound Greatest Films of All Time poll.

  1. He Who Gets Slapped
    Year: 1924
    Director(s): Victor Sjostrom
    Comment: My favourite film. It’s not like anything else. Lon Chaney manipulates the audience’s emotions by making shapes with his body, within the shapes Sjostrom makes with his camera. A melodrama in which nothing is really credible but everything is incredibly compelling. The film that draws the line between the laugh of the clown and the snarl of the lion.
  2. The General
    Year: 1926
    Director(s): Buster Keaton & Clyde Bruckman
    Comment: Ten films is such a small number that maybe all the entries do need to be perfect. Formally speaking, this one is: every shot is an essential component. Keaton makes the camera’s observation part of the joke. Each shot says, in a perfect deadpan, “Here we are now. And now this is happening. And so…” Plus you have a cinematic icon as star, a magnificent comedian, an incredible daredevil, working on the biggest canvas he ever got.
  3. Citizen Kane
    Year: 1941
    Director(s): Orson Welles
    Comment: What, I’m going to leave this off, so I can look more like a wild individualist? A brilliant cinematic mind jumps into the medium, determined to see what he can make it do. Tackle everything in a fresh way, from story to performance to camera to design, special effects, sound, editing. It may not actually invent anything but it packs in a ton of radical creativity and unconventionality. The filmmaker conveys his joy at all the tricks he comes up with, which makes the film supremely likeable to me, which it doesn’t get enough credit for.
  4. A Matter of Life and Death
    Year: 1946
    Director(s): Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger
    Comment: The Archers had to have a place on my list, and in truth it could be any of five or six films, but this one marries its experimentation to a story both real AND fantastical, enabling them to stretch themselves in every direction. I love their use of Technicolor and I have, I admit, a mysterious sentimental attraction to stories of WWII. And I have a deep sympathy for Powell’s rejection of realism: as he said, it doesn’t really exist in the cinema. It’s all an illusion. And we know it. Romantic, funny, epic, the film’s breadth of vision puts everything Britain’s made in the past 50 years to shame.
  5. Eight and a Half
    Year: 1963
    Director(s): Federico Fellini
    Comment: There’s the sheer invention; the joy of looking through such a pair of magical eyes; Fellini’s roving camera; his carnivalesque world; Nino Rota’s galumphing score. I don’t know how many more times I can bear to see this one: the last time I was continually on the verge of tears over its beauty. And I don’t get that with other beautiful films. The love of cinema seems to speak directly to me, but to add an acerbic quality, Fellini is quite harsh on himself, via his stand-in Mastroianni.
  6. The Knack… and How to Get It
    Year: 1965
    Director(s): Richard Lester
    Comment: The inventiveness and playfulness of the French New Wave is ported over to a grey London autumn and blended with native surrealism. Screenwriter Charles Wood explodes Ann Jellicoe’s play and, with director Lester, assembles a dazzling mosaic from the pieces. All the choices are surprising, and somehow coherent. And it’s all quite strange: John Barry’s jazz score and David Watkin’s beautiful photography combine with the oddball text to create a feeling that’s a bit mysterious, even while it’s mainly all just bursting with youthful exuberance.
  7. 2001: A Space Odyssey
    Year: 1968
    Director(s): Stanley Kubrick
    Comment: “If he could get rid of the human element, he could make the perfect film,” joked Malcolm McDowell. But here he almost does. By acting, arrogantly, as if nobody had ever made a really good science fiction film, Kubrick solves all the problems methodically but also pushes the genre into epic, mythic, spiritual terrain that even the best sf literature rarely touched upon. Stately, bold, astonishingly beautiful. The great rationalist suddenly blasts us off into a psychedelic experience which doesn’t yield fully to reason. It’s not even certain if the film is optimistic or despairing (yet colourful).
  8. Playtime
    Year: 1968
    Director(s): Jacques Tati
    Comment: Having become a national or international institution, Tati blew his career to pieces with a colossal folly, a two-hour-plus widescreen film about the purgatory of modern urban life, eventually transformed into a playground by the human imagination. With his character of Hulot reduced to one figure among dozens, spread across a vast screen, and with anything resembling a conventional gag or slapstick ruthlessly expunged. Only comedy that astonishes, laughs you can’t explain, comic abstractions, are allowed here. Jokes about things looking like other things, sounding funny, taking too long, not being audible, not being understood. The scale is dazzling, insane. The world received it with a puzzled frown. If you’re on the right wavelength, you’ll instead be almost embarrassed at receiving such a lavish gift.
  9. The Conformist
    Year: 1970
    Director(s): Bernardo Bertolucci
    Comment: Bertolucci had recently cowritten a spaghetti western, Once Upon a Time in the West (another obvious contender for this list). Similarly, here we have a cruel and cynical tale delivered in a lush romantic style. Delerue’s music and Storaro’s photography create an astonishing sweep. The political intent gives the film a sense of passion, even though Bertolucci is quite harsh about his characters. In Trintignant, he has the perfect star for this style, giving a performance that’s elegant, sardonic, sometimes robotic, sometimes a little crazed. I think all my choices have something in common, a sense of filmmakers breaking through all the conventions, asking “Why can’t it be like this instead?”
  10. My Neighbour Totorro
    Year: 1988
    Director(s): Hayao Miyazaki
    Comment: Miyazaki’s films add to the traditional dynamism of the anime form a welcome and surprising poetry. He pays attention to things cartoons usually ignore. A major setpiece here is two little girls waiting for a bus, one of them almost falling asleep. The filmmaker is in tune with childhood because his ambitions are usually simple but profound. Here, he wanted to show city kids what life in the country is like. His version of that is quite idiosyncratic, with the little dust bunny creatures, the cat-bus, and the titular nature spirit, a huge cat-owl thing, utterly benign but a little alarming and obviously very powerful. Very little is explained, which seems like a good lesson for children to absorb: there are mysteries.

Your further remarks

This was difficult! I will wake up screaming as it occurs to me the thing I forgot to put in. Even now I’m dismayed at what I felt compelled to knowingly exclude. No Chaplin, Marx Bros, pre-codes, horror films, musicals, westerns… is this even a list at all?

If you don’t know his name

Posted in FILM, Politics with tags , , , on August 22, 2022 by dcairns

On the same day Facebook connects me with a fake Derek Malcolm — I have met the real one — had hoped to tell him how much his BBC2 Film Club meant to me, something I neglected to mention on previous meetings (not easy to get a word in when DM and the late Bertrand Tavernier are in full flow) — this bogus Malcolm was trying to sell some kind of scam — Facebook also blocked me for posting a picture of Charlie Chaplin as Adenoid Hynkel. I’m unblocked now. The fake Derek Malcolm was possibly the most inept scam artist I’ve ever run up against.

I SHOULD, of course, abandon FB altogether, although the fact that they’re blunderingly overanxious to suppress Nazis now theoretically makes them preferable to Twitter, who still seem half-hearted in this regard.

Also got to view our copy of Criterion’s 4K CITIZEN KANE — a freebie as reward for the short essay on the Welles nose which Randall William Cook, Timo Langer and I created. The viewing took place on Stephen C. Horne’s big big screen, and Fiona, who has never seen the film projected, likened it to see the film for the first time. I’ve seen a couple of projections, one shortly after Welles’ death (I turned 18 on the same day), and this was certainly the best non-35mm experience I’ve had with it. The transition from Thatcher’s memoirs to the studio snowscape was the best I’ve seen lately. It’s possible that the high-contrast print used for TV transmission gave this sequence an effect never intended, but beautiful: tiny snowflakes drifting over the page, invisibly white-on-white except when they pass across Thatcher’s handwriting. I recall the effect precisely, and found it breakthtaking, but I don’t remember if it was the film projection or the BBC2 screening where I experienced it. I don’t recall noticing a difference in the sequence between the two — it was only when the film appeared on a DVD supervised by editor Robert Wise that I was disappointed by its absence.

The 4K doesn’t quite achieve the effect in my memory, but the transition is still gorgeous.

The main thing I noticed that I’d never seen was the canvas texture of the campaign office’s ceiling. Cloth was used so that a boom mic could be hung above it and still record the voices through the ceiling. It’s not distracting or anything — none of the “flaws” exposed seemed at all bothersome. It’s just nice to be able to confirm that story optically.

New Arrivals

Posted in FILM with tags , , , , , , on July 27, 2022 by dcairns

From Criterion —

THE GIRL CAN’T HELP IT on Blu-Ray. Stephen C. Horne and I made a video essay for this one, extolling the wonders of Cinemascope and Gorgeous Lifelike Color By Deluxe.

CITIZEN KANE in 4K. This ports over a piece Randall William Cook, Timo Langer and I made for the Criterion website, exploring Orson Welles’ obsession with false noses.

The pile of discs I’ve worked on is now standing above eye level. When it gets to be taller than me, I may have to find a sheld for it, or start wearing heels, or something.